No One Can Make You Run – Ownership is the Key
A marathon taught me a business truth I’ll never forget. Support and coaching help, but nobody can do the work for you. When mile 18 hits and you’re tired, doubting, and tempted to slow down, you still have to keep moving. Ultimately, your ownership of the effort, the consistency, and the finish line, will get you through.
My oldest brother, John, is the runner in our family.
Years ago, he talked me into running a marathon. Then another. Then another. At first, I didn’t think of myself as “a runner.” Never did it very much but eventually, I caught the running bug.
So when John started talking about qualifying for the Boston Marathon, I did what any reasonable person would do: I said no.
Then he said it again.
And again.
And somewhere between his calm confidence and my growing curiosity, I stopped saying no. He coached me from afar. I was in Ohio and he was in Maryland. We called and talked every few days.
We picked the Columbus Marathon in the fall as my shot to qualify. John was already qualified, and he flew in to run the race with me, planning to pace me all the way to the finish line.
No pressure, right? Just me, 26.2 miles, and my big brother acting like a human metronome.
Race Morning – Nerves and Sun
The morning of the race, I was wired. The weather was perfect, crisp, bright, and sunny. Meanwhile, my stomach was auditioning for a disaster film.
John, of course, was calm. Encouraging. Steady.
And when the gun went off, we settled into our pace.
At first, it felt almost…easy. Not “sipping-tea-on-a-porch” easy, but “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this” easy. We were holding our pace. I was huffing and puffing, but I was doing it.
Until mile 18.
Mile 18 – When the Marathon Said Hello
At mile 18, I hit the point where the marathon stops being a fun run and starts being a gut punch.
My lungs were burning. I was gasping for air and had to stop and walk.
Picture an oversized goldfish on land, mouth open, chest heaving, trying to negotiate for oxygen. That was me.
Then came the side stitch.
Not a cute little cramp. This thing felt like someone drove a ten-penny nail into my rib. I rubbed my side like that would magically fix it. It did not.
John stayed right with me.
He didn’t panic. He didn’t lecture. He didn’t act disappointed.
He just started feeding me steady encouragement:
“Dig deep.”
“You’re doing good.”
“We’re almost home.”
And here’s the thing, without him there, I would have walked longer. And if you walk too long in a marathon, your legs stiffen up. The gears rust. The engine cools down. And then it’s game over.
John kept me in the game.
The Tunnel – When All You Can See is the Next Step
We started running again. I was pushing for all I had.
I wasn’t noticing the scenery anymore. I wasn’t watching other runners. I had no extra energy for anything except the next stride.
From that point on, the race became a fog of effort, broken only by John’s voice every few minutes in my ear:
“You’re looking strong.”
“Almost home!”
“Keep it steady.”
By mile 23, I was in trouble again. I started gasping even more and had to walk…for…just…a…little…bit.
This time John’s tone changed.
It was firm. It was tough. The tone you use when someone’s about to talk themselves into quitting:
“Keep moving.”
“We’re gonna do this.”
“No stopping now.”
He threw in a four-letter word or two. I needed it.
I started running again partly because I believed John… and partly because I didn’t want him to be mad at me.
We had come too far.
He had come all the way to Columbus for this.
And I wasn’t going to let him down.
The Finish Line – Gravity, Crowds, and Grit
The last miles were painful in a way that feels strangely unreal still.
We turned the final corner, and I saw the finish line on a slight downhill.
Downhill, on wobbly legs.
It felt like the universe finally decided to help, maybe too much. The crowd was loud, packed in, cheering like we were all heroes.
John yelled our time. We were close. I couldn’t read my watch anymore, my vision was blurry.
Then he said:
“Pick it up!”
“You got it!”
“You got it, Ern!”
I didn’t know if it was true. I was afraid to believe it. But it sounded so good that I used it.
I pushed harder in those last 50 yards than I ever had before. My stomach tried to rebel a few times.
I glanced at the clock as we got closer, I could barely read it: 3:19-something.
I kept moving. Kept pushing. Kept praying my legs wouldn’t betray me and that I wouldn’t trip in the final stretch.
And then, finally, we crossed the line together.
3:19:50.
We did it!
We were going to Boston!
The Real Lesson – Ownership
For a long time afterward, I told everyone the same thing, “I couldn’t have done it without John.”
Which was true, and also not.
One day at a family gathering, after I’d said it for the tenth time, John pulled me aside. He thanked me, but then he said something I’ve never forgotten:
“Nobody can make you run. You did that. You did the work.”
That made me think.
Because he was right.
John coached me. He encouraged me. He paced me. He believed in me when I wasn’t sure I could believe in me.
But I still had to get up day after day and do the training. Here, at home, in the rain, in the heat. In the days I didn’t feel like it.
The marathon doesn’t care about your excuses.
Those 26.2 miles will call you out.
And in business, and in life, it’s the same.
Our goals will call us out.
People can coach you, support you, teach you, pace you, inspire you, even love you enough to fly across the country to run beside you…
But nobody can do your work for you.
You can’t fake it.
You can’t shortcut it.
You can’t hide behind someone else’s strength.
At some point, it’s your legs. Your effort. Your consistency. Your ownership. And that can be scary.
But the good news…it’s empowering, because if nobody can make you run… nobody can stop you either.
Your Call to Action
If you’ve been waiting to “feel ready” to take the next step, own it and start before you feel ready.
Pick your mile. Pick your habit. Pick your next small action. Do it. Then do it again tomorrow.
And if you want a coach in your corner, someone to help you build the plan, stay accountable, and keep moving when mile 18 shows up, find one, reach out.
Because support matters.
But remember, ownership changes everything.
That next Spring, we ran the Boston Marathon together. The year of the hurricane. That’s another story…
#Mindset #SmallBusinessOwner #BusinessCoaching #HighPerformance #Accountability #Leadership #Consistency #NoExcuses #DoTheWork #RunYourBusiness
